


a shitty gay song about you

by cupofshiba



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, MTF character, NB/F - Freeform, Nonbinary Character, Other, RiverClan (Warriors), have mercy, lots of gay, some chapters are probably short, this is my first time writing an actual book, tw for misgendering of a closeted cat, warrior cats ocs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupofshiba/pseuds/cupofshiba
Summary: Brushtail just wants what’s best for RiverClan. They work hard, they hunt for prey, they patrol frequently, they take clan life more serious than ever, barely having time for a social life.Brightpelt is the complete opposite. She’s rambunctious, careless and treats everything like a game. Brushtail detests her.Little do they know how much she’ll mean to them..... eventually.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. watching my fish swim in my room

“Then by the power invested in me by StarClan, I grant you your warrior name. From this day forward, you will be known as Brushtail. StarClan honours your hard work and perseverance and welcomes you as a full warrior of RiverClan.”

They’d worked so hard to hear those words, and today, from the gracious mouth of their leader, they were spoken.

Excited chants from all directions thudded in their ears, constant repeats of _“Brushtail! Brushtail! Brushtail!”_

The yelling was overwhelming, to say the least, but Brushtail stood before the high rock, chin high, soaking in the meaningless glory.

Violetstar raised their tail, signalling the clan to silence. “This warrior will sit a silent vigil outside the camp entrance tonight. Meeting dismissed.”

Just like that, it was over. Violetstar stepped down from the high rock, and they instantly lowered their head and started at the floor.

 _Well, now what?_ Thoughts flooded their head, but the rush of crowds around them gave them barely enough time to breathe. 

“Congratulations, Brushtail!”

“We’re so proud of you!”

“Will you take us hunting now you’re a warrior?”

“How do you feel?”

Their only response was the twitching of their whiskers. _Now what?_ All 12 moons of their life had been leading up to this. But everything felt empty. 

“Brushtail, join us in the warriors den.”

The gentle smile of their former mentor caught them off guard. There was no ill intent behind Dreamdrop’s gaze, but they felt the urge to send her away with a quick lash of their tail. They didn’t feel like talking, not even to the she-cat who taught them everything they knew.

“I’d rather not. My vigil starts soon.” They muttered, no emotion in behind their voice.

“Oh. Yeah,” Dreamdrop looked slightly disheartened, but she calmly began to walk away. 

“I’m here if you need me. You never stop being a mentor!” she added, before briskly disappearing to who knows where.

Watching the pale tabby walk away, the crowd seemed to get the message and dismantle itself. The they-cat could finally breathe again. Few cats lingered, but no one they actually cared about.

_Where was the feeling of pride? The excitement? Was all the training just for this, emptiness?_

Not knowing where they were going, they left camp, haunted by second thoughts and doubts. They expected the silence to wash everything away, to make them realise _you’re a warrior now! Nothing is holding you back._ But the gentle green grass stabbed at their paws, and the flowing, calm river mocked them, chanting _you’re just like everyone else, another useless RiverClan warrior._

The stars above their head glistened.   
They say every dead warrior is a shimmering star in the night sky.

And there were thousands, thousands and thousands of stars.

_You’re not special._

They wanted to yowl, to claw their ears off, to scream rage-filled retorts back until everyone left them alone.

But all they could do was sit. The silent vigil was starting.

When morning finally came, basking it’s warm mid newleaf glow upon the horizon, the brown tabby felt half dead, ready to dive into the paws of a warm moss bed where they could wander into a world of insignificant dreams. The river was calmer than in the night, gleaming and smiling happily at the young warrior, seeming to forget what it had whispered to them previously. The grass had settled and was napping beneath their pads.

But even the gentle morning came with it’s taunts and unkindness. 

“Brushtail! Good morning,” came a lighthearted voice from behind. A mostly white tom brushed against their side and stood beside them, blinking at them kindly as the rising sun tinted his fur a pale yellow. 

It caught them off guard, and they quickly straightened their back and shook out their fur, to at least look alive.

They recognised the chirpy tom as Birchshade. Without needing a response, he continued to talk. “How was your vigil?”

In their tired state, Brushtail missed a couple beats, but quickly managed to snap out of their sleep deprived trance and respond. “It went well.” They knew him to be quite oblivious, so they could probably get away with lying and pretending doubts weren’t haunting them all night. 

“That’s good.” Birchshade mewed. “Let me get to the point. I need a favour, can you take my apprentice out today? Usually I wouldn’t ask a newly promoted warrior, but everyone else is busy and I figured it’d be a nice first day experience for you, and-“

“No. I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

They stopped to think for a moment. What did they have to do? They wanted to sleep, of course, but for their first day, they hadn’t really thought ahead, at all. They’d already hunted yesterday in their warrior assessment and explored the territory as an apprentice.

Birchshade didn’t allow their mind to wander for too long. “Whatever, you’re just like everybody else.” 

There was no real offence directed at Brushtail in that sentence, but it caught their attention and they quickly turned their head to gaze coldly at him before he could walk away.

”Fine. I’ll do it.”

”Thanks Brushtail! You’re the best!” Birchshade smiled, oblivious to their cold stare as he trotted back into camp.

They dug their claws into the soft earth in frustration, letting a long needed, angry yowl escape their jaws.

_Who was Birchshade’s apprentice again?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introduction to brushtail!  
> remember to drink water (:


	2. fooling around i think of you

_Darkness. Darkness. Darkness as far as the eye could see. Dark swallowing the horizon, waves of black engulfing everything and the world beginning to crumble. The ground disappeared beneath them, and they kicked, ran, swam, but went no where. Unspecified toxins and liquids filled their lungs and nostrils as the darkness raked at their back with its talons. They could barely breathe. They were being destroyed._

_They screamed. They cried. They wailed. They waited._

_Nobody came._

“Um.. excuse me?”

Brushtail snapped awake, the fur on their back instantly standing up and their long tail puffing out. They unsheathed their claws and gripped at the moss beneath them, desperate to feel something beneath their paws. They breathed heavily, blinking back the tears, as they gazed desperately at the sunlight seeping in through the tiny holes in the wall that boiled already warm pelts cuddled up together. 

They were in the warriors den. It was fine. The hairs on their back returned to slumber.

“Hello?”

They then became aware of the presence beside them that had woken them up. They snapped their head around to glare at them. It was a young tom, an apprentice, not too much younger than them, with a grey pelt. After glaring in silence, they finally shook themself awake and spoke. “What do _you_ want?”

The apprentice shuffled on his paws. “Um.. Birchshade said you were gonna take me out hunting.”

_Foxdung._

“Oh.. yeah.. you.” Brushtail replied, slowly getting to their paws with an arch of their back and tail. Why did they agree to this again? They were exhausted, and any nightmare would beat spending time with cats they barely knew, no matter how vivid.

The apprentice seemed taken aback. “Don’t you... recognise me?”

“Of course! You’re... Birchshade’s apprentice.”

“It’s Duskpaw.”

“Right. You’re Ravenpaw’s brother, aren’t you?”

The tom flattened his ears and glanced away dismissively, much to the they-cat’s confusion. _Did he not like Ravenpaw or something?_

After a quick stretch of their hind legs, Brushtail nodded their head towards the jaws of the den, stalking out of it’s mouth into the RiverClan camp.

As was per usual during midday, the camp was crowded with cats basking in the sunlight, sharing tongues and gossiping, doing nothing of use. And the world allowed them to do that. It made them sick, that apprentices trained so hard just to become lazy warriors that never work a day of their lives.

_Brushpaw, the fresh kill pile is never full. It just gets bigger and bigger, it grows and it grows, a good clan never lets it’s pile shrink. Anyone can throw a dead fish on a stack of other dead fish. But only a true warrior makes the pile bigger and better until they can’t anymore._

They were only 7 moons when they were taught that, and it stuck to them like glue. And they agreed with it, all the way. It was the only important lesson. 

Idle cats can never be true warriors.

They were seconds away from closing the gap between them and the camp entrance, when they noticed Duskpaw had stopped following them. Instead, he was sitting calmly in the shade of a decaying tree’s dangling leaves, seemingly waiting. For what, a miracle?

They padded over to him. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting.” He simply replied. “Brightpaw and Wingheart are coming too.”

Brushtail resisted letting out a furious yowl for what felt like the millionth time. They’d have to deal with three careless lazy warriors all afternoon, who would probably just sit and bask in the sun whilst they did all the hard work and then take credit for every little scrap of prey they managed to catch.

Somehow, Duskpaw noticed their distress, and offered them a sympathetic look. That was the last thing they needed.

“You know, Brushtail, if you don’t want to-“

“No. I do want to.”

As if on cue, a lean white and brown warrior and a scruffy golden apprentice reached them, smiling as if there was nothing to care about in the world and tensions between clans weren’t rising every passing second.

“Brushtail. Congratulations on becoming a warrior.” Wingheart said, not a trace of any emotion behind his voice. He made them shudder, nothing about him really _felt right._ They went to respond, but he was already pridefully exiting camp with the apprentices at his heels. They groaned to themself and swiftly followed, leaving the haunting camp of calmness and smiles behind.

“Good try, Duskpaw! Just make sure to kill the fish quickly so it doesn’t slide off the bank.”

Whatever was happening upstream, they weren’t paying attention. Wingheart was occupying the apprentices, much to their surprising delight. Now, they were laser focused, crouched silently beside the gently galloping stream, their paw outstretched with their claws unsheathed.

Fish. Fish. What RiverClan was known for, what they thrived off of, what kept their elders strong and their kits alive through leafbare. Fish was an integral part of RiverClan, it set them aside from all other clans. The river belonged to them, and the fish belonged to the river. No matter how different two RiverClan cats could be, their one similarity would be their love for fish.

It was their first time hunting as a warrior, and they were determined to come back with a good catch, to prove to everyone that they were a real warrior, and show all the generic warriors that there’s more to sustaining clan life than _having a good time._

They spotted a silver shimmering slither upstream, and determination sparked inside of them. Brushtail could already taste the flesh of the fish between their jaws, feel the excitement of bringing well caught fresh prey home to feed a hungry clan and cats recognising their hard work.

The joy of their apprentice moons came flooding back. This was life for them. _They weren’t like anybody else._

“Hi!”

Brushtail’s fur stood up and they hissed in surprise, just as the school of fish passed them and darted away from the noise. They watched the creatures swim away into the deep unknown, never to be seen again, staring wide-eyed in utter disarray and disappointment.

Then their gaze fell on the culprit, who they recognised to be Brightpaw. The tom was unusually fluffy, just like them, with a bright golden pelt that gleamed in the sunlight. He had an innocent smile, and wide bright blue eyes that were filled with obnoxiousness. 

“What in the name of _StarClan_ do you think you’re doing?”

“Saying hi! Ya seemed lonely.”

“I wanted to be alone!” They hissed. “I was focused. You just made me miss at least 3 catches!”

“Oh, come on, that was only a small group, no one’s _that_ good!” He mewed in amusement, as if that made anything better.

“Go bother Wingheart.” 

“No can do. He’s busy with Duskpaw.”

“Well, I’m busy with _this!”_ They snapped back. Brightpaw simply smiled, looking up at them and blinking.

“Can ya teach me to catch funny lookin’ fish like you do?”

“You have a mentor for a reason!”

“He’s busy.”

“So am I!” Brushtail’s fur was even more on end than before. The apprentice just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Sheesh.” He purred, and turned to walk away. Brushtail shook their head and leaned back over the stream, when Brightpaw quickly turned back around, dipped his paw in the water, and splashed Brushtail’s chest with it. Before they could yell, Brightpaw had already darted away upstream to his mentor, giggling like a kit.

The they-cat stared down at their reflection in frustration, droplets of river water falling from their chest fur and muzzle back into the water.

_What on earth was that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you’re so cool when you drink water (:


End file.
